“Then turn round and go back there,” she directed. We are expecting a visit from Sir John Ferringhall at any moment. “He does not come here,” she exclaimed, quickly. Then she sat watching the play, sometimes offering a helpful suggestion, sometimes letting her attention wander to the smoothly shining arms she had folded across her knees just below the edge of the table. A strong arm pulled her closer, and the lips that mouthed her own in tender touches sent her senses reeling. Yet an indiscriminating, wrong-headed world gave such fellows all sorts of distinctions. Gerald lost his head. You call it a lot of nicknames—“Babs” and “Bibs” and “Viddles” and “Vee”; you whack at it playfully, and it whacks you back. We'll be upon the ban-dogs before they can shake their trotters!" And the alarm was sounded more loudly than ever. She felt the need to get dressed, sensing that his parents would be home soon. Ruth crossed over to the dramatist of this tragicomedy and put a hand on his shoulder. For this he was prepared; but he was not prepared for the almost insurmountable obstacles which it presented.
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